


Thunder

by Pisces21Red



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Ian and Mickey dealing with Ian's Bipolar disease, Ian is Mickey's Thunder (Definitely), M/M, Mickey is Ian's Thunder, Takes place from S04E12 Lazarus to beyond that by a few years, song-fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 21:34:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1833076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pisces21Red/pseuds/Pisces21Red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian and Mickey deal with Ian's Bipolar Disease, and Ian comes to discover a revelation about how much Mickey truly means to him.</p><p>He's ready to fight this disease with Mickey by his side and Ian knows that Mickey is ready to stand by him and fight as well.</p><p>Boys Like Girls ~ 'Thunder'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thunder

**Author's Note:**

> Long story short, iPod was on shuffle and this song came up. I realized Holy Fucking Shit, the song fits Ian and Mickey perfectly along with the situation with this Bipolar disease.
> 
> Don't know what the song is really trying to get across, I mean there's the obvious idea of course, but I doubt it's that deep to this extent but whatever...enjoy.

_Today is a winding road that's taking me to places that I didn't want to go_

_Whoa (whoa, whoa, whoa)_

_Today in the blink of an eye I'm holding on to something and I do not know why_

_I tried_

 

When Ian woke up the morning after all hell broke loose at the Alibi the night before, he just knew…just knew that something was off. He knew something was off when his first thought didn’t involve anything to do with Mickey Milkovich, his now out lover, and instead was the simple thought of _I don’t wanna be here anymore_.

And what scared Ian the most was that he instinctively knew he wasn’t talking about being there at Mickey’s house, in his room, but that he was talking about not wanting to be on Earth itself anymore. Though his mind was clouded with the most morbid and depressively, heart-wrenching thoughts and suggestions of what to do to just…end everything…Ian, deep down under that convoluted plume, knew he wasn’t ready to give up all that he achieved, all that he’s _going_ to achieve.

So, he laid there in Mickey’s bed, stared blandly at the wall, ignoring his lover’s shaky and uncertain voice, ignoring all of his siblings’ own careful and scared voices, trying to ignore all of these voices in his _own_ head, as Mickey tries to bring him food and something to drink and as his siblings stop by to try to get him out of bed or to make him feel better.

And he tries to forget about that singular voice in the back of his mind mockingly saying _why bother to fight?_

 

_I tried to read between the lines_

_I tried to look in your eyes_

_I want a simple explanation_

_For what I'm feeling inside I gotta find a way out_

_Maybe there's a way out_

 

He’s taken to a clinic a couple months later at the pleading of Mickey and of course his siblings, and he’s examined and prescribed some medicine as it’s revealed that he has this Bipolar bullshit. The same shit Monica had and it figures that the one thing the conniving bitch leaves behind in her path of destruction is this fucked up disease for one of her kids.

Ian thought he knew and understood all there is about being Bipolar since he, Fiona and Lip remember, while Debbie, Carl were just babies and Liam of course wasn’t born yet, when Monica would jump here and there, giddy and fucking Frank around the house, buying them clothes and toys, living it up. Until the next minute she would just slump…like she was a puppet and her master cut the strings and left the building for a vacation to Milan or something. It scared them shitless when they were little because they never knew what the fuck happened or was happening. Their question to each other was always _what’s wrong with mommy?_ and of course neither had an answer, not even Lip, he was just five or six then, not the bad boy, genius he is today.

But when the doctors just told him a bunch of medical crap, that sounded like garbled nonsense in his ear, and excused themselves to go handle another patient like it was making their skin crawl just sitting in a room with a group of South Siders, Ian, frustrated, went to the books and online.

Sitting up in Mickey’s bed, Ian felt himself gradually getting angrier. Mickey was lying next to him, apparently exhausted from not only his managing of the whores down at the bar and the finances of it since Kevin sucked with numbers and reading. Stepping up more to take care of Yevgeny but as well as making sure that Ian had all that he needed, whether it be a run to the pharmacy for his meds or making something to eat for him that he desires. Whatever Ian asks for or idly talks about, Mickey damn near breaks his neck trying to settle it all for him.

It’s not like anyone else was putting him to the side, because Ian knew they all had their own shit storms to tend to that they didn’t need to hover by Ian’s side, which Mickey had loudly proclaimed that as being a crock of shit and that they need to be there more for him, but Ian was quick to his family’s defense.

Debbie’s boy troubles A.K.A problems with Mattie. Carl’s girl troubles A.K.A problems with Bonnie and her mysterious disappearance. Lip’s rich girl A.K.A mutually beneficial relationship with Amanda as no one knows if they’re dating or if Amanda is essentially his sugar mama and to add onto that, his college life. Fiona’s parole officer and social services checking up on her constantly to make sure she keeps on top of her business and isn’t fucking around with drugs while acting as a responsible enough adult as she still works at Charlie’s diner. Almost forgot, the whole re-emergence of now, SteveJimmyJack was thrust upon her shoulders as well.

And then of course, Liam is too young, and Liam is especially too young to see Ian like this and no one wants that for the young kid, not even Mickey.

Hell, even Mandy had her own shitty life problems, working at that nasty ass diner with handsy patrons and the mutually unacknowledged love between her and Lip, as well as the scar that Kenyatta and even Terry, despite the fact that he’s now in prison for a year over some gun violations, typical, practically left on her life.

Shaking his head to clear the increasingly lonely thoughts, Ian’s eyes narrowed and his hands clenched into fists when he sees all the different therapies for his disease listed and all of the different Bipolar stages and there were just pages upon pages of so much shit about this fucking disorder and not a specific answer, Ian got fed up and with a growl, threw the laptop across the room, hearing it hit the wall with a resounding smash.

Now huffing and puffing on the bed, Ian glanced down at the figure lying beside him and his breathing slows to a calm pace and his heart clenches at the sight.

Mickey stared at him unguardedly, his ice blue eyes bloodshot from the exhaustion. They welled up with a couple of tears and the smaller male reached a hand out and rested it gently on Ian’s leg, squeezing it enough for Ian to feel a tinge of pressure.

Ian felt a couple tears come to his own eyes at seeing his lover like this and he thinks what it must be like from Mickey’s end to see him like _this_ and Ian resolves that he’s going to find a way to lighten the load on Mickey’s shoulders by fighting…fighting for the both of them.

 

_Your voice was the soundtrack of my summer_

_Do you know you're unlike any other?_

_You'll always be my thunder, and I said_

_Your eyes are the brightest of all the colors_

_I don't wanna ever love another_

_You'll always be my thunder_

_So bring on the rain_

_And bring on the thunder_

 

Listening to Mickey talk, Ian could lie down and listen to it all day. It was that perfect combo, not too deep and nowhere near high. It carried a hint of an accent, that wasn’t distinctly from Chicago, yet not exactly Russian or Ukrainian. Ian wasn’t entirely sure of what it was but it just sounded so sexy, and every time he heard him talk, whether it be annoyed or pissed off or just _happy_ and laid-back, the sound reverberated throughout his whole body and made his toes curl.

When his meds were situated to a stable load, meaning he was able to function more sexually with the help of the improved medication, Ian damn near jumped out of all his clothes to hurry and get into bed with Mickey.

In the first couple of years of their fucking, it was rare for Ian to fuck Mickey face to face, and while Mickey was being fucked, his voice would deepen and he’d let loose continuous stream after stream of grunts and groans.

And when Ian flipped him onto his back one day, then Ian understood why he only let loose those grunts and groans; he was biting harshly onto his bottom lip. Ian had pried the lip from the smaller male’s teeth, demanding that Mickey let Ian hear him to which Mickey reluctantly, after a few insults and threats of course, agreed to and Ian had never cum so quick in his life before; Mickey sounded so fucking good, issuing noises of absolute pleasure and euphoria; so fucking sexy.

Just like now, when it’s months after his diagnosis and Ian could get it up with a simple glance of Mickey’s bare and cute legs, as he walked around in his boxers and a t-shirt more often than not, and it was midday, both he and Mickey locked into Mickey’s room. Mickey’s legs and arms wrapped tightly around Ian’s waist and upper back respectively, as Ian moves determinedly and sensuously inside of the dark-haired male beneath him, balancing on his forearms on either side of his lover’s head.

Mickey’s mouth was right next to his ear, his heavy pants punctuated by loud gulps and swallowing as if he was trying to suck in more air like he was suffocating from the heavily passionate session and the heady scent of their sex lingering in the air. And then out tumbled the unbidden mewling and the whimpering that soon followed, the tell-tale sign of Mickey’s impending orgasm that Ian knows must be embarrassing for the Milkovich, but they both know damn well they could care less at that point.

And then as Mickey reaches his climax, he’s quiet yet his body is shuddering as he holds onto Ian’s back desperately, and then he releases a long satisfied moan that gets Ian’s dick undeniably harder, making him rut faster into the satiated male to join him in that euphoric bliss.

The sound of Mickey’s that’s Ian’s favorite though? Is his voice when he dotes on Ian and makes sure that he’s okay or when Ian hits a low, and he gets that playful lilt to his voice to let his boyfriend know that everything _will_ be okay, and that he’ll be there for him no matter what.

Ian loved the sound of Mickey’s caring voice, even his caring actions when the ginger sometimes heard him in the kitchen trying to be quiet as possible when he made Ian some lunch and Yevgeny his bottle, because people think that all Mickey is, is the tough thug, asshole miniature Milkovich. Though that is true, more like it was true the first few years of their little trysts, Ian discovers that Mickey’s just a big ball of softness underneath that tough coating but he only lets Ian, Yevgeny and on occasion, Mandy, see it, which is something that Ian absolutely adores about the atypical Milkovich.

 

_Today is a winding road_

_Tell me where to start and tell me something I don't know_

_Whoa (whoa, whoa, whoa)_

_Today I'm on my own I can't move a muscle and I can't pick up the phone_

_I don't know (I don't know, I don't know, I don't know)_

_And now I'm itching for the tall grass_

_And longing for the breeze I need to step outside_

_Just to see if I can breathe I gotta find a way out_

_Maybe there’s a way out_

 

Ian’s hit by the low again and thankfully he doesn’t steep to the level like he was the first time his depressive mode made its entrance which everyone’s gratuitous to the bottles upon bottles of medication for Ian.

But Ian still had no desire to move and get out of bed and deal with today.

He took his meds an hour ago and could feel himself brightening up a bit but not enough to get up still… until Mickey comes into the bedroom.

They got their own apartment at this point and with Ian working at the Kash N’ Grab once again after quitting his job at the Fairytale and Mickey managing the Rub N’ Tug business, their pay didn’t necessarily equate to a lavish apartment, but it provided them with a roof over their heads and functioning appliances, so they didn’t complain.

Mickey dropped lightly on the bed beside Ian and Ian turned to look at him with speculatively, tired eyes.

“Wanna go get some ice cream?” It was uncharacteristically sweet and so unlike Mickey, but he sounded cute and childish at the same time, with that boyish grin and the dimples on his round cheeks and sparkling blue eyes. “It’s nice outside.”

And he was right. Ian was staring out the window before for what seemed like hours, listening to the wind blow just enough to provide temporary relief from the heat of the sun which made Ian predict the temperature to be about the late-60’s.

Ian stared at him blankly for a couple more seconds, making Mickey’s grin waver and dim but Ian feels his heart sink and he forced a weak smile in return.

“Of course, Mick.” He said hoarsely and slowly lifted himself out of the bed with the help of Mickey, who immediately let go when Ian’s standing on his own, and Ian smiled appreciatively. Mickey knew that Ian hated getting extra help when he didn’t need it, insisting that he can do shit on his own.

As Ian walked slowly to the bathroom to take a shower, he saw Mickey pulling out some clothes for Ian to wear for when they go out and notices the happy and satisfied expression placed upon his face instead of relief. The relief that was mirrored on his siblings’ faces like they were scared that Ian was going to say no or not say anything at all, reverting back to that first stage.

It warmed Ian’s heart to see that Mickey had so much faith in him and was open more now than he ever was before and Ian thinks…he thinks he’s going to be okay and not end up like Monica, because he has someone there with him every step of the way.

 

_Your voice was the soundtrack of my summer_

_Do you know you're unlike any other?_

_Y_ _ou'll always be my thunder, and I said_

_Your eyes are the brightest of all the colors_

_I don't wanna ever love another_

_You'll always be my thunder_

_So bring on the rain_  
 

Mickey had the best fucking eyes that Ian’s ever seen and he’ll gladly shout that shit from the highest mountain with _conviction_ even at the risk of Mickey maybe pushing him off of it.

Electric blue eyes and Ian felt his whole body heat up when they made eye contact with his own or his body.

And when he was deep inside Mickey, rubbing against that spot, Ian would see Mickey’s eyes water, making them look like the vast ocean, before they rolled to the back of his head, presenting Ian with the whites of his eyes, it added fuel to that fire that constantly burned deep inside of him whenever he was even _near_ Mickey.

It gave him one of the most pleasurable feelings to know that he could get that reaction out of Mickey Milkovich.

He knew that Mickey hated that girly shit staring into each other’s eyes and pointing out stars and constellations in the sky while laying on a blanket or spouting lovey dovey crap but when Ian would hit his highs before lapsing briefly into himself until he descended into that inevitable low, Mickey would step up to him.

He would calmly talk to Ian in a low and an almost lulling voice, with his hands cupping Ian’s cheeks lightly, his eyes staring deeply into Ian’s as he talked to him in that voice.

And it’s not like Mickey said real meaningful speeches or encouragements. He just talked about crazy shit they used to get up to in the past, Yevgeny’s conversation with him on the phone earlier that day, what they’re going to eat for dinner, what a co-worker did to piss him off at work today…anything and everything.

Ian doesn’t know how, but when Mickey did that, his own viridescent, nowhere near as bright and striking as Mickey’s, eyes stared intently into Mickey’s ice blues, and it’s like he’s sucked in and he flashes back to all the good and senseless times they’ve had with one another before this disease. It calmed Ian down enough that he’s still riding that high, but not even close to the point where he felt the need to renovate the whole apartment or anything.

Ian’s joked with Mickey that he’s a vampire who used mind-control on people to get them to do what he wants, which would explain why he’s so pale and his teeth are sharp. But then of course Mickey in his signature way flipped Ian the bird and rolled his eyes.

 

_Yeah I'm walking on a tightrope_

_I'm wrapped up in vines_

_I think we'll make it out_

_But you just gotta give me time_

_Strike me down with lightning_

_Let me feel you in my veins_

 

_I wanna let you know how much I feel your pain_

 

_Today is a winding road that's taking me to places that I didn't want to go_

_Whoa_

 

_Your voice was the soundtrack of my summer_

_Do you know you're unlike any other?_

_You'll always be my thunder, and I said_

_Your eyes are the brightest of all the colors_

_I don't wanna ever love another_

_You'll always be my thunder_

 

Mickey knew that Ian was slowly yet surely getting better. His highs and lows were getting less and less frequent, granting him a reprieve back to his original self, even though Mickey unfortunately realized that that doesn’t mean he’s going to be cured. It’s not a curable disease, though he has heard of people having it for a few years in their childhood and they literally grow out of it as they get older. But Mickey doesn’t think that’ll apply to Ian.

They were in their mid-twenties already with stable jobs and a better apartment and Ian was technically diagnosed at 17, so that doesn’t really sound logical but who knows.

Years ago, never in a million fucking years, would Mickey have ever thought that he’d end up living like a family with Ian and Yevgeny, whom only stayed over when Ian was feeling himself as they didn’t want him to experience or witness any of that sadness that fell over the apartment when Ian felt low or the foreboding when Ian felt high.

But because of how the episodes occur less, Yevgeny practically stayed there a couple of months at a time without incident.

Mickey also would’ve never thought that he’d be standing by his man’s side as he kicked this disease’s ass, shit, he’d never thought that he’d even have a man let alone with a potentially debilitating disease, especially by this age; he thought he’d be behind prison bars or dead in a ditch somewhere.

There were times where Mickey believed he and Ian were connected deeper than what their relationship implied as when he was low, Mickey himself felt low, looking upon Ian’s disinterested figure sprawled out in bed or on the couch. But he knew that he had to try and help Ian and not contribute even more to his depression by making _himself_ depressed, Ian wouldn’t want that.

But Mickey knew there wasn’t anywhere else he’d rather be and that’s all that mattered.

-

Ian knew that his disease made Mickey feel helpless sometimes but he also understood that Mickey acknowledged the fact that this disease is forever and it’s going to take patience.

A couple of times, Ian’s felt like whatever they do is pointless as this shit keeps coming back and it’s going to eventually end up swallowing him into an endless dark abyss with how annoying it was to Ian that he just wanted to end it, but he reassured himself that it’s going to be okay.

And when he doesn’t have the willpower to do it himself, Mickey reassured him.

 _But it’s definitely worth it_ , they both unknowingly think while lying in bed together, Mickey’s head relaxing on top of Ian’s chest, watching some crazy ass horror flick.

 

_And I said_

_Your voice was the soundtrack of my summer_

_Do you know you're unlike any other?_

_You'll always be my thunder_

_So bring on the rain_

_Oh baby bring on the pain_

_And li_ _sten to the thunder_

**Author's Note:**

> Not all the lyrics really fit with the story but I think I got the idea across.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
